Having cancer can cause huge shifts in every sphere of our lives – from our personal identity, relationships, work and finances. On a more existential level, it impacts our basic understanding of what it means to live in the body we have, for the time we have. In facing cancer, it may feel like we are going on a journey into the unknown – where we are leaving behind a previous life and entering into a new one.

Sometimes the shifts in our experience might be so gradual, or sudden, that words fail us. I have heard people say many times in therapy that the shock of being diagnosed and then often thrust into intensive treatment felt like a blur, and while they knew lots of things were happening to them, they cannot remember what was actually occurring – they were in survival mode. Being involved in high intensity procedures interspersed with the uncertainty of long waiting periods can cause us a tangle of conflicting feelings and be hard to digest.

Experiences might need space, compassion and patience to explore at a time and pace which feels okay for you. They might also be held within our bodies, and so slightly out of reach to the rational, observing part of ourselves at first.

That’s why art therapy can be such a valuable tool in processing cancer – you do not need to find the words, you can simply let out the feeling however it comes (including perhaps numbness of feeling, or a messiness). It is for people of all ages and being ‘good’ at art or knowing how to use art materials technically does not matter – it is simply about creating something that feels true to you. When the time is right, we can relate to what we have made and perhaps start to integrate some of the more difficult feelings we have.

Art also allows for a visual record of your journey to be created – something tangible which can be grounding and help remind us how far we’ve come. How might one chemo week or scan differ to the next for you? Where did you find yourself pre-diagnosis, and where might you be now? These questions and more can be explored in a safe, non-judgmental way through the creative process. Sessions work in a very client-led way, so you can choose to talk, use art materials, or both – whatever you are drawn towards. There’s also a variety of materials available – in sessions you might use clay, craft something, take a photo, paint, draw or even write. As with other forms of therapy, the therapeutic relationship is at the heart, and you will have someone to be alongside you as you face feelings, memories or thinking who can help you make sense of things.

If you would like to know more or discuss how art therapy sessions might work for you, please get in touch and we can explore how the process can support you.

Sophie Wakefield
November 2024

Cancer: making time for recovery post-treatment

Isn’t it about time we challenged and moved away from the tyranny of speed, when it comes to healing and recovery?

I’ve long asked myself this question, both in relation to working psychologically with individuals going through cancer, and also during my own recovery from treatment for breast cancer. I find myself frequently pondering on the somewhat unhelpful phrases such as ‘get well soon’ and, ‘wishing you a speedy recovery’, which are so dominant in our culture. Surely it would be more helpful, and forgiving, to say, ‘take your time’, and ‘I wish you a slow, gentle recovery’?

In a profoundly wise, and thought-provoking book, newly published, and entitled Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence, Gavin Francis, the GP and author, explores how and why we get better, suggesting that when it comes to illness, “sometimes the end is just the beginning”. I like this quote, which so helpfully suggests that the long journey back to health (however we may define that) can be far more complex and nuanced than we imagine.
In exploring this notion of ‘the end is just the beginning’, Francis describes the many different forms recovery can take, whilst also revealing how little time is made for it. Tellingly, he points to the gaping absence of any reference to the process of recovery, or convalescence, during his 13 years of medical training. Continue reading →

A cancer counsellor describes a personal experience of colorectal cancer

As a psychotherapist and part of a specialist team, for many years I have been supporting cancer patients and those close to them face the impact, feelings and challenges that a cancer diagnosis and treatment brings in its wake.

Although I had not had cancer myself, with the exception of a scare in my mid-30s, through my clients I learned how different reactions can be from person to person, and how certain key points often turn out to be the hardest to navigate. Not surprisingly, these are prompted by how you are given the news that you have cancer, coping with the side effects of the treatment, the end of treatment, the challenge of recurrence and the difficult shift to palliative care. In other words, vicariously, I was familiar with the terrain.

However, when over a couple of years, I experienced fatigue, loss of appetite and weight, digestive upsets and feelings of depression, I found perfectly ‘plausible’ explanations – I was just tired, I needed to lose a few pounds, I had become dehydrated as a result of a summer holiday in Spain. In other words, in spite of my background, I was in denial. In addition, I felt embarrassed, as do many similarly affected, and this too acted as a deterrent from seeing my male GP. Continue reading →